Chapter 3 Storms Don't Knock

It was just past 10 a.m. when I felt the shift in the air.

The Ricci estate sat on the cliffs of Monaco like a lion watching over its territory-silent, unmoving, and far too proud to admit when something was off. But I could feel it. Like pressure behind my eyes, or the taste of lightning before a storm.

I stood at the window of the west wing, the one that overlooked the main drive, and watched as a black car rolled through the gates.

My heart dropped.

Luca.

He stepped out with that same defiant stride I remembered from our childhood, that air of reckless charm masking all the fury that simmered underneath. A charcoal coat billowed behind him, and his dark hair was longer than I remembered-windswept and furious.

He hadn't changed. But I had.

By the time I reached the front door, he was already in the foyer.

"Elena."

His voice hit me in the chest like a memory I wasn't ready to relive.

I hesitated. "You shouldn't have come."

"You didn't give me a choice," he said, stepping forward. "You cut me off. Ignored every call. Then I see a tabloid photo of you wearing his ring? Standing next to Damien Volkov like-like some puppet bride?"

"It's not what you think," I whispered.

"Then explain it," he challenged.

Before I could answer, another voice cut through the hall.

"She doesn't owe you anything, Luca."

We both turned.

Damien stood at the top of the staircase, dressed in black, sleeves rolled to his elbows, no tie-just quiet, lethal elegance.

The air between the two men crackled.

Luca's jaw clenched. "I'm not talking to you."

"You're in my house," Damien said, descending the stairs slowly. "You don't get to choose who speaks."

"I'm here for Elena."

"Then speak to her outside. And don't take long."

I stepped between them. "Stop it. Both of you."

Damien looked at me. "You let him in?"

"No," I said. "He let himself in."

He studied me for a second too long. Then nodded once and walked away, his presence leaving the room colder than before.

Luca exhaled. "What the hell is going on, Elena?"

I led him out to the garden, away from the security cameras I knew lined the interior.

"I married him to protect my father," I said softly.

Luca's eyes widened. "Protect him? From what?"

"From Damien. From a war. From everything that was about to burn."

Luca stared at me like he didn't recognize the person I'd become. "You chose this?"

"I didn't have a choice," I whispered.

He took a shaky breath. "Do you love him?"

I flinched.

"That's what I thought," he said, voice cracking. "Elena, he's using you."

"And what if I'm using him too?" I said quietly.

Luca blinked. "You don't mean that."

I didn't answer.

"I came to take you away," he said.

My stomach twisted. "It's not that simple anymore."

"I'll make it simple," he said. "One word and we're gone. I'll get you out of this city, out of his reach."

I looked up at him, and for a second, I remembered what it felt like to be loved without strategy or suspicion. But that was another life. Another girl.

"I can't," I said. "Not yet."

Luca's face fell. "Why?"

Because something doesn't add up.

Because the locked room at the end of the hall still haunts me.

Because Damien's pain is too precise to be fabricated.

Because deep down, I'm not sure who the real enemy is anymore.

---

Inside the House

Damien watched the security feed in silence.

Luca and Elena in the garden. Her eyes glassy. His hands shaking with desperation. Damien didn't blink.

He poured himself a drink but didn't touch it.

Marcel entered quietly. "Shall I escort him off the property?"

"No," Damien said. "Let him stay. For now."

Marcel hesitated. "That's a risk, sir."

"Good," Damien replied. "Let's see what kind of man he becomes under pressure."

"And the girl?"

Damien's jaw tightened. "She's starting to see the cracks. I won't stop her."

"But?"

"But I'll be damned if I let her fall through them."

---

That Night

Dinner was awkward.

Luca sat across from Damien, tension vibrating off the long oak table like a live wire. I sat in the middle, flanked by two men who had every reason to kill each other and only one reason not to.

Me.

The chef served lamb and saffron rice. No one touched it.

Luca cleared his throat. "So this is how you live? A fortress in Monaco. Guards in every hallway. Cameras in every mirror."

Damien sipped his wine. "Freedom always has a cost. You of all people should know that."

"And what's yours?"

Damien's eyes didn't leave mine. "She knows."

The air thickened.

"I'd rather die than watch her rot in this house," Luca said.

Damien leaned back. "Luckily, you won't have to wait long."

I stood abruptly. "Enough."

Both men fell silent.

"I won't be used in some testosterone war between you two," I snapped. "Figure out your issues without dragging me into it."

Damien smirked. "Too late for that."

I stormed out.

---

Later

Luca found me in the piano room. My fingers ghosted over the keys without pressing them.

"You okay?" he asked.

I nodded. "You need to leave, Luca."

"Not until I know you're safe."

"I'm not in danger," I said. "Not in the way you think."

He sat beside me. "Then what's really going on?"

I looked at him. "There's a room at the end of the west wing. It's locked. Damien won't talk about it. But Anastasia mentioned someone else-another woman before me."

Luca stiffened. "A fiancée?"

I nodded.

"She disappeared," I said. "No one talks about her."

"Do you think he hurt her?"

"I don't know. But I'm going to find out."

Luca took my hand. "Then I'll help you."

And for the first time in weeks, I didn't feel alone.

---

Midnight

The estate slept.

I moved silently through the west wing, Luca trailing behind. We reached the black door. I pulled a pin from my hair and knelt.

"You know how to pick locks now?" Luca whispered.

"Let's say I've had time to learn."

It clicked open.

Inside, the room was dark. Dusty. A shrine of someone long gone. Dresses still hanging. A journal on the dresser. Half-used perfume bottles. A photo cracked in the frame.

The woman was beautiful. Her name-Tatiana-was etched on a bracelet.

"I don't think she left," I whispered.

Luca nodded grimly. "I think she's dead."

And just as the words left his mouth, we heard a voice behind us.

"You shouldn't be in here."

Damien.

We turned slowly.

His face was unreadable. But his knuckles were white.

"I told you not to open that door," he said quietly.

"You killed her?" Luca challenged.

Damien's eyes flicked to him, then back to me. "No."

"Then where is she?" I asked.

His voice broke. "She left me."

Silence.

"She ran away the night before our wedding," he said. "And my father sent men after her. I never saw her again."

I didn't know what to say.

Damien stepped forward. "She left a note. Said she couldn't marry a man like me."

His voice was hollow.

"She made me believe I was unworthy. That everything I touched would rot."

I swallowed hard. "That's why you built this prison?"

"This was never a prison," he said, eyes on me. "Until now."

Luca took a step forward. "If you ever lay a hand on her-"

"I won't," Damien said. "But she needs to decide who she really wants to be."

He turned and walked away.

---

Later That Night

I couldn't sleep.

Luca stood on the balcony, staring at the sea.

"I'm staying nearby," he said. "Just in case."

I nodded.

"Elena?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful with him."

"I am."

"No," he said. "I mean... with your heart."

I didn't answer.

Because I knew it was already too late.